Harry Potter and the Guardians of Hogwarts
by icyThera
Summary: With so many things so heavy on his mind, Harry wants nothing more than to fade into darkness. However, a new year looms ahead and Harry is to face a very great challange indeed. Even with a new friend at his side, one must wonder: how will they all get


I wrote this before book six, and upon having read book six i was faced with either having to change what i'd written, or just not taking into account what went on in book six. I've opted for the less-work choice. : D Go figger. Thus, here begins the tale of what happened in year six in an alternate reality of the Harry Potter saga.

Harry Potter returned to Privet Drive to find that it hadn't changed a bit. He always rather hoped that SOMETHING would change, anything really. But things down that quiet street were always that same: the same boring square houses that looked exactly the same, only painted different shades of white; the same perfectly trimmed lawns, the same cars sparkling clean in the driveway. Nothing changed in Little Whinging.

Thus, Harry looked forward to another miserable summer being pounded by Dudley, who had managed to gain back any weight he'd lost on last summer's diet, yelled at by Uncle Vernon and screeched at by his Aunt Petunia. Hopefully, he'd be allowed to go to Ron's house, or better yet, back to Sirrius's house.

Sirrius. The thought of his godfather brought back all of the painful memories and thoughts he'd tried so hard not to think about. But a long summer with little to do but wander around the quiet streets promised him very little reprieve from his own mind. He'd barely gotten to know Sirrius, and now he was gone. Harry sniffed back the tears that were threatening him again, and returned to his introspective wandering.

The first few days of the summer drug by with little interest. Harry spent most of his time outside wandering the streets in his quiet reverie, and any time he was forced into the house he'd just listlessly go about whatever task or duty was screamed at him. He didn't mind the horrid diet Aunt Petunia had them all on, he didn't feel much like eating in the first place. When Dudley came after him with fists balled, he'd run halfheartedly away, which still got him safely out of the reach of the porky Dudley. The time did pass though. Not quickly, not slowly, rather normally, it just slipped by as Harry thought through all of the things he had to think about. A full two weeks passed in this way, Harry wandering and barely caring about anything. At one point, Aunt Petunia had actually spoken a bit of concern for the boy.

"Vernon, do you think something is wrong with Harry? He doesn't really eat much, and he doesn't DO anything."

"Is he not doing to chores you give him? I'll not have him being insubordinate under MY roof." The large man's face began to turn purple at the very thought.

Petunia quickly explained, "No, no, he does all of the chores I give him. He doesn't complain, either. He just kinda nods and goes to it. I think something is wrong with him."

"And so what if something is? If he withers up and dies, then we won't have to deal with him anymore." Vernon's face lit up with a grin at this thought.

"Yes. We won't have to deal with him anymore, but we would have to deal with all of those ... others of ... his kind." She whispered the last few words very quietly. "For some reason, that scrawny little brat is important to them, and somehow, I think they would not be pleased with us if we just let him go on like this. You remember what the man with the creepy eye said? That they'd be keeping an eye on us?" Petunia shuddered at the very thought.

Vernon looked alarmed at what his wife was saying. "Blimey, Petunia, your right." He glanced all around the room, as though expecting to see a hidden camera or something watching them even now. "Now, why don't you take him shopping with you tomorrow or something and have a nice little chat with him, see if you can find out what is going on with him."

"Me!" her face paled immediately. "Why me? Take him out in PUBLIC? Why don't you talk to him, and right here at home!"

"Well ... you're his aunt after all. I'm of no relation to the boy. How would i possibly understand? And i think you should take him out so they don't think we're keeping him shut in." They argued about it a bit more, but Petunia knew there was no point. Vernon was as stubborn as an ass when he wanted to be. This was one of those times.

Vernon was very pleased with the arrangement. Petunia was not.

Thus, then next day Harry was awoken early and shuttled off for a morning of shopping with his very cranky Aunt. There was a time in his life when he would have thought that this was an amazing miracle, but now, now he would have preferred just being left at home with only his thoughts to keep him company. As it was, the morning wasn't terrible, Aunt Petunia had even bought him lunch at a fast food restaurant, which he had never been to, and it was really good. But she kept bugging him with questions, asking him if everything was alright, if he was feeling well, and on and on. Of course he didn't answer. How was he supposed to tell his muggle aunt that his newfound godfather had been killed, and that Harry had just learned of a prophecy saying that he would have to either kill Voldemort, or be killed himself? So, he just kept telling her that nothing was wrong, that he just missed being at the school, and so on and so forth. She didn't buy it, but she had tried, and THEY couldn't get after her if he refused to tell her anything. She hoped.

The ride home was silent and moody. Neither person was very pleased at the result of the morning. When they pulled into number four Privet Drive, however, they got quite a surprise: there was a moving truck halfway down the street! But, nobody ever move in or out of Privet Drive! Harry was sent down the street to find out what house they were moving in and to scout out the family, to see what they were like, from a distance of course. Dudley caught up with him before he'd gotten there, being just as anxious to see who had moved in, and out, as everyone else. Aunt Petunia, meanwhile, had hurried inside to prepare a housewarming basket, in hopes to get on the neighbor's good side, and perhaps get a look in the house to see what they were like.

The two boys walked towards the house, and just as they got around the fence by the driveway, Dudley pushed Harry down on the ground so that he could be the first one to get a look. He rounded the fence and watched the family coming in and out of the house moving their furniture. Harry caught up to him and stood watching himself.

"Think they've got any kids?" Dudley asked, his hatred of Harry momentarily forgotten. "I hope so. Another boy, i can add to my gang. I'll bet he'll hate you just like everyone does."

Harry didn't even bother responding. "Maybe we could ask if they'd like some help?" He wondered absently.

Dudley snorted. "Right. Go on. You ahhhsss..." Dudley trailed of mid-word and just stared open-mouthed.

"What?" Harry looked at his cousin and snickered at his face. Then, he looked the direction that Dudley was looking. And he saw that they did, indeed, have a child. A child right about his and Dudley's age. But it wasn't a boy. Even Harry, who'd seen veela and even met a half-veela girl, was surprised at how beautiful she was. The two cousins just sat staring at the girl as she bounded out of the house and grabbed a box and bounded back into the house. She was very small, barely five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds if she was soaking wet. Harry tried not to think of her soaking wet. They watched as she came out again, her black hair gleaming in the sunlight and trailing behind her as she walked back to the truck. "Y'know what?" Harry said, grinning, having recovered his wits, "I think I will go ask if they need some help!" And he took off before Dudley could move.

Usually, dinner at the Dursley's consisted of a lot of chewing and slurping, and Uncle Vernon talking a lot about drills. But, tonight was not a usual night, and apparently, this was the kind of unusualness that the Dursley's didn't hate. Aunt Petunia was very ready to update Uncle Vernon on what had happened.

"Yes, so this new family is moving into Foster's old place. I always new they wouldn't last long. Terrible people, you know. Financial problems they had, like crazy, I heard."

"Financial problems?" the idea appalled Mr. Dursley. "Good riddance to them, then I say. What of these new folks think they'll be a better addition to the neighborhood?"

"I haven't gotten the chance to meet them yet, myself. But Dudley did head over there this afternoon to meet them. Did you sweep them off their feet, my perfect little gentleman?"

"Yes. Tell us all about them Dudley. Do they got any children for you to be friends with? Are they wealthy? Will they like drills?"

This was obviously an overload for poor Dudley's brain. He just stared in bewilderment at his parent's, both of whom were looking at him expectantly. "Well..." he began slowly, "They do have a lot of nice things. But I didn't see any televisions. Or computers. But," he paused, and a pink flush began to move up his cheeks. "But... they do have a daughter! And she ... she ... she's the prettiest girl I've ever seen!" He blurted out all at once. Harry nearly choked on his drink laughing.

"Oh! My little Dudley-kins has his first love! Oh!" And Petunia burst into tears.

"Well, now. We shall certainly have to meet these people, now won't we? Can't have Dudley falling in love with a girl who's not rich, can we? Gotta have the best, he does!" He grinned proudly at his son. "That's my boy." And when his wife went to get the basket she'd prepared for her scouting mission, he added, "But, even if she isn't rich, you don't have to marry her to enjoy all that prettiness, do ya son?" And he winked at his son, who clearly didn't have the faintest notion of what Vernon was hinting at.

As soon as dinner was done, the Dursley's all put on their Sunday clothes and headed over to the new neighbor's house while Harry was left to wash the dishes. His thoughts, for once did not turn to Sirrius or Voldemort, but rather to the beautiful new neighbor girl. He washed the dishes and imagined that she was a witch from another school, and that she'd heard that he was a great Quidditch player and that he'd stood toe-to-toe with Lord Voldemort himself several times and that she couldn't believe that she was meeting him. But, as dreams do, it was lost into the reality that there was no way that a wizarding family would move voluntarily to Privet Drive. It was well over an hour before the Dursley's returned home, so Harry suspected that they'd finagled a way into the house to inspect their new family. However, when they got home, he didn't expect that they would be angry with him. Well, more than usual. But they were. Uncle Vernon got home, took off his coat, and immediately bellowed for Harry to come downstairs. Harry put away the schoolbook that he had been reading and went down the stairs to where Uncle Vernon was waiting for him, his face already beet red.

"What were you thinking, boy! How DARE you INTRODUCE yourself to them!" he exploded.

"What? I just offered to help them move some of their boxes."

"I see. Thought you could get an inside on them. Make yourself look good so that they'd think that we're terrible people. We go over there and introduce ourselves, and they say 'oh ... but where is your other son?' Other son, indeed! Think you can make yourself look better by associating with us now? I put them strait. Told them you were our orphaned nephew that we look after." Vernon grinned smugly at that. "Told them about the pitiful little waif that you really are. Other son, my foot!"

"I didn't say i was your son. I'd never insult my parents like that! They must have just assumed it."

"Don't you speak to me like that! Besides, that still leaves us with the problem of you talking to them! You are not to go near their house or that family, do you understand? Especially not their daughter ... she's for DUDLEY." Uncle Vernon was running out of steam so he just yelled at Harry to go to his room again and stay there the rest of the night.

Harry gladly spent the rest of the night in his room, reading his schoolbooks. He wrote a short letter to Ron about the new family and the incident with Uncle Vernon. It ought to give him a laugh, Harry thought. He started thinking about Sirrius again, but he was again sidetracked by the girl in the house down the street. He fell asleep thinking about her, and had lovely dreams of him saving her from a rouge dragon, and sweeping down on his Firebolt out of harms way, and he throwing her arms around him calling him her hero. But, then somehow she fell out of his arms and fell downward into the same portal that Sirrius had fallen into, and when he tried to scream for her, he realized that he didn't know her name. He awoke in a cold sweat and vowed to himself he'd find out what her name was.

That task turned out to be considerably harder than he'd expected while half-asleep. The Dursley's were keeping him on a very short lease after suspecting that he'd introduced himself to the neighbors and possibly told them all about himself and his... abnormalities. All day long while Uncle Vernon was at work, Aunt Petunia kept Harry very busy inside the house with chores and cleaning and anything she could come up with. Dudley, however was given all sorts of tips on wooing his newfound love, and Aunt Petunia kept giving him money to buy the girl presents and halfway weeping about her little baby growing up. After only a few days, though, Aunt Petunia ran out of things to keep Harry inside with, and he was finally allowed outside. His days in the house, however, had given him ample time to think about his last few experiences with girls, and he wasn't even all that enthusiastic about trying to find this one right away either. Let Dudley try and get her. He wouldn't anyway. Harry really didn't care. He had much more important things to brood about right now than what the pretty neighbor girl thought of him. So, he slipped back into his old habit of wandering the neighborhood and brooding, and thinking. Thus, one very bright and hot afternoon, he found himself in a nearby park. Realizing that he was soaked in sweat, he sat beneath a large tree and began idly examining the park.

There really wasn't much going on in the park that day: it was a bit hot for parents to have their young children playing, and even Dudley's gang, which usually could be found here searching for victims to pummel, had retreated indoors. Glad to see the park empty, Harry laid down in the shade of the large oak. He laid there quietly, staring up through the slightly wilted leaves of the tree to the brilliant blue sky above it. It was so peaceful here, as though nothing in the world could possibly be as horrible as he knew it could be.

He jerked awake some time later, not even aware that he'd drifted off to sleep. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and jumped to his feet, anxiously searching the sky for some sign of how long he'd been napping.

"It's only four twenty-five in the afternoon," said an amused voice from above him. Harry twirled around to see the neighbor girl sitting in the tree he'd been resting under. He swallowed hard around the anxious lump growing in his throat. She giggled, and jumped down from the tree. "Hi! I'm Hathor Tahri." She extended her slender hand to him. Shakily, he took it, still unable to find his voice. "And you..." she paused, grinning, "Are none other than the renowned Harry Potter!"

Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. "You ... you know who I am?" He looked at her closely, now excited. "So ... you're a witch then?" Hardly daring to believe his luck, he began to think that this summer wouldn't be so bad. Another witch ...and one his age ... and sooo pretty...

"Naw. I'm not a witch." She looked at him curiously. He looked back, and caught his breath: how could he have not noticed those eyes before? Dark as a warm night, they were black but not cold, and such an odd shape they had. Come to think of it, her skin was very dark as well: not really brown, more of a very deep olive, like sand, actually. And... "If your quite done with your examination, I'll explain why I know who you are. But if you haven't finished ogling me like a schoolboy, I can wait, I'm sure." She seemed very cross.

"I wasn't ...well ...alright. I'm very sorry. I hope you'll forgive me. It's just that your very lovely..." It sounded so good in his head ...why did it come out as though he was saying it through a STRAW! "Ss ...so if you aren't a witch, then how do you know who I am?"

She looked around, suddenly. "I'll explain in a minute. First, up this tree. That abominable cousin of yours is coming this way with his gang. I swear, if he beats up one more little kid to impress me, I'll set him on fire!" She swung up the tree, then, as if she was a squirrel. Harry scuttled up behind her, more slowly, and much more awkwardly. The climbed high up into the tree so that no one looking up could see them, but they had a clear view of the park.

Sure enough, there was Dudley and his gang, sauntering in. But they were quite far away. "How did you hear them?" Harry hissed.

"SHHHH!" was all he got for a response.

The girl had been right: after seeing no one in the park, Dudley and his gang headed out again. As they retreated, Harry was sure he heard Dudley say, "I'll bet she's down at the pool on a hot day like this. Wow! What a sight that will be!"

Harry heard Hathor sigh next to him. He looked over at her, and immediately felt very sorry for having gawked at her earlier. She looked very sad. "D... D'ya get that a lot?"

She looked back at him, a contemplative look in her face. "Yeah. My mum's half nymph and half Egyptian. Makes for a peculiar combination in me. My da's half Egyptian as well, but in him, the other have is good old fashioned Brit. So, I'm quarter nymph, meaning i get to take all the abuse your average nymph gets, not that they mind it much, but i've got none of the powers. Stupid nymph."

Harry looked perplexed. "Why stupid nymph? Wouldn't it have been just as much your great-grandfather-or-whoever's fault?"

"It would be, yes, save that nymphs usually do not actually bear children to men. Mostly just play with 'em until they've wasted away," this didn't sound to bad to Harry. "And it's an awful existence. But me stupid grandmother loved him and had a daughter: mum. And that is my pathetic story. Anyhow ... how I know your Harry Potter." She grinned again, all melancholy flown from her. She slid down the tree, and sat at it's trunk, and waited as Harry scrambled down after her. "You're not very good at that, are you?"

Harry sat down next to her, and grinned sheepishly. "Y'know ... you'd get along very well with my friend Hermoine Granger, though I think you pair would be a NIGHTMARE." She laughed heartily with him. "Now, how do you know of me if your not a witch?"

"Well ... if you didn't figure out, my mum's a witch. You hardly couldn't be with being half nymph. As you can imagine, she's a whiz with charms." Harry nodded, and hoped that she didn't catch that he knew almost nothing about nymphs, other than they were beautiful women. "In addition, me Dad's a pureblood wizard. Tahri isn't a very well known surname, at least, not around here. Thus, I've heard about you ever since i remember. My parents were looking forward to me going to school with you. They never said as much, but, they wanted me to charm the crap out of you, and marry you."

Harry blushed so hotly, he thought he'd burst into flames. He tried to make a witty remark, but somehow couldn't get passed the incredible lump in his throat. So, he just sat there silently, glowing bright red and gulping like a fish. She looked at him and began to laugh. He had no choice but to join in: he knew he looked ridiculous. Finally, he got a hold of himself. Still unable to come up with any kind of response about marriage (other than: of course i will!), he decided to just ignore that subject. "But you don't attend Hogwarts, and you said your not a witch. What happened? Are you a Squib?"

"Nope. Well... I guess I could be considered a Squib. I'm not really very magical. But I honestly think that is more of a choice than a lack of power. Actually, I am a psion. My parent's were actually quite horrified when they found out, but I think, as I became more ... difficult, they decided it might be for the better."

Harry, not wanting to make anymore of a fool of himself, thought of just trying to pretend that he understood exactly what she was saying. But, curiosity overcame pride, and he just asked. "Um... what, exactly, IS a psion?"

"That's right. I forgot that wizards tend to try and forget us. But I really expected better from Dumbledore. He's usually very open-minded, as wizards go. Oh well. I'm sure he has his reasons." She stopped to think for a minute. "Psionics really aren't that difficult to understand. Hard to use, but easy enough to understand, especially for a young wizard. Psionics and magic really aren't that different, despite what most wizards and psions will say. The big difference is the source: psionics come entirely from within the Psionist and mostly from the mind. There are some psionic schools that use more emotion-driven powers. Wilders, they are usually called. Mostly, though, psionics students are kept under strict discipline to learn to control their significant internal power. Magic, however, is different in that the power of magic is usually a culmination of the powers found all around the user. Using the focusing power of a few key words, wizards bring enormous forces under their control." she stopped, thinking. "It's really quite impressive, when you think about it. It may seem very petty to you: you wave your wand and 'Expecto Patromun!' and there you are protected by one of the most powerful protective forces in the universe."

Harry looked at her incredulously. "Wow. I'd never thought about it like that." He looked at Hathor, was shocked again by how beautiful she was, and tried not to stare. "But... psionics sound pretty impressive as well. So, you don't use spells and wands?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Well, no spells. Many psions use crystals, staves, and even some wands to focus their energy. Wands in the psionic realm, though, are considered wimpy. A psion only uses a wand if they can't handle a full-blown staff. Crystals focus and store psionic energy very effectively: so a psion on a long mission can store excess energy on a day when he hardly needs them to be used in a lengthy battle to avoid fatigue. That's another difference between wizards and psionist: wizards study magick to use and to make life better. Psionists are warriors. Sometimes, it seems that wizards only abide us because they are often inept in battle. Certainly, one could never raise an ARMY of wizards." She snickered. "Although, it would be amusing."

Amazed by how little he still knew, Harry continued to push for information. "So, are you a warrior then?"

Hathor laughed. "Not a chance in the world. Truth is, i've been suspended from school for two years. That is why my family had to move here. My parent's decided that my time away from school should be used to learn a little bit of magic. I'm to attend Hogwarts until my sentence is served. I, unlike most others of my kind, have no self discipline." She grinned roguishly.

"And that was enough to get you suspended! Psions must be tough." Harry was shocked, though very pleased to find she'd be coming Hogwarts.

"Well... it wasn't just my lack of self-discipline to be truthful." Harry looked at her suspiciously. "I may have not been entirely correct when I described myself as a psion. That implies a general student of psionics. I'm a specialist, which means my powers have a very specific focus," she paused dramatically, then finished with a flourish, "I am a Pyrokineticist."

"A what-who!"

She grinned at him impishly. In that moment, her black eyes flashed mischievously and she suddenly looked very dangerous. Not any less beautiful: just more dangerous. "Do you want to see?" and before Harry had a chance to answer a wall of flame burst up all around the park. Six feet high, but not very deep, the red and orange flames hungrily moving inward towards them.

Harry expected her to shut the flames off after just a second, but she didn't. A few more seconds passed and she still hadn't turned them off, and Harry finally tore his eyes away from the entrancing flames to look back at Hathor. He was startled to see her simply staring at the flames. She had a strange, small smile on her lips and a glow in her eyes that rather frightened Harry: it occurred to him that she not only CONTROLLED fire: she absolutely LOVED the stuff! He grabbed her around the shoulders and shook her roughly. "Hathor! You have to turn these flames off! Someone will notice, and call the fire department, and we'll both be in very real trouble." She looked at him fuzzily. Then, without warning she seized his head in her hands and pressed her mouth against his own. Harry was so shocked that he didn't respond at first. Then, for just a moment, he let himself get lost in the moment, and wrapped his arms around her, crushed her small body against his and returning her kiss hungrily. But, his senses returned to him after a moment, and he pulled away, relunctantly. He managed to choke out, "You have to put it out." He had said it very quietly, but he'd said it with such authority that she looked at him differently for a moment, and then complied. Just as suddenly as it had erupted, the fire was gone, leaving only a charred ring of grass six inches wide all the way around the park.

"We... we'd better get back to our homes, quickly. There are people coming. We don't want to get into trouble." And with that, she took off.

Harry watched her running off, and then ran for it as well.

And that night, his dreams were very pleasant, indeed.


End file.
